


supernova beat

by taeyomi (buttercream)



Category: NCT (Band), WAYV
Genre: Ballet Dancer Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Making Out, Pining, acting like a mf couple, music producer kun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:46:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24578512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttercream/pseuds/taeyomi
Summary: It’s hard not to mess up his notes when he’s a lot more interested in the dancer pirouetting around the room than the instrument he’s trying to play.(For the record, Kun didn’t free fall into love with Ten. It was a painstakingly gradual process, but in hindsight, it probably started that very day.)
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Qian Kun
Comments: 44
Kudos: 390





	supernova beat

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, yes, hello.
> 
> This thing happened because I wanted kunten to act like a couple without actually being one, so there you have it. 11k of these messy dummies cluelessly navigating a relationship neither of them knows how to label LOL
> 
> It's seriously unbetaed, I didn't even read it before posting afraid that doing so would make me regret it all. Please ignore any mistakes or plot holes (har har) or whatever, I didn't know what I was doing.

\-- 0 --

The keys dance before Kun’s eyes as he blinks rapidly yet again. Having dimmed the lights is probably not helping either, so he considers turning them on for a brief second, sighing at his computer screen. It’s almost three in the morning, he agreed to meet Chanyeol back in the studio at seven. If Kun hauls his ass to bed right now, he might be able to catch a few hours’ fitful sleep before leaving. Then he won’t be able to finish this before the 27th. He’s got four days to mix and arrange the entire piece before the due date, and despite being usually able to work wonders under pressure, Kun isn’t sure if he’ll make it this time.

It’s the creaking of his faulty bedroom door that pulls him from his own thoughts. Kun lets his chair swirl smoothly so he can take a quick peek at Ten in Kun’s favorite pajamas, socked feet padding closer to Kun’s desk.

Kun swivels his chair back to its original position and frowns at the glaring colorful lines of tracks and sequences on the screen. His eyes are beginning to hurt.

“Kun,” Ten murmurs, a slender hand sliding past Kun’s shoulder and onto his chest. His chin rests atop Kun’s head lightly, and he smells like Kun’s fabric softener. “Come to bed. It’s really late.”

Leaning his head on the arm Ten’s got draped around him, Kun replies, “I gotta finish this.”

“You can finish tomorrow,” Ten insists. “Come on. I’m sure nothing’s making sense to you anymore. They never do past two a.m.”

Kun snorts out a laugh, rubbing both hands up and down Ten’s arms. He’s about to acquiesce when his chair is pulled back and Ten is climbing on top of him, dutifully straddling him by fitting his legs through the armrest holes of Kun’s chair. 

With hands around Kun’s neck, Ten grins as if this one action has been his biggest feature so far. “Can’t see the screen now, can you?” He asks cheekily, heaving a long, theatrical sigh. “What a bummer. I guess you’re going to have to go to bed.”

A ferocious wave of affection surges in Kun’s chest, almost suffocating; big enough to stir a storm of emotions in his head. In a span of a heartbeat, Kun realizes that he’s never been so sure about the way he feels than he does now. He gives Ten’s thighs gentle squeezes before letting his hands trail up to Ten’s hips. It’s insane how much his heart loves being close like this. It’s mad crazy how much he loves Ten.

Pulling Ten closer, Kun wraps both arms around his waist. He watches as Ten’s grin softens, fading into one of these easy smiles that make Kun want to kiss him until they both pass out. He tips his head forward so his lips are able to catch Ten’s gently. Ten’s thumb caresses at Kun’s earlobe as he’s kissed, humming pleasantly as Kun licks his mouth open. It’s a quick kiss, yet loud and warm enough to etch itself deep inside of Kun like every single tiny thing Ten makes him feel.

Ten hums again as he pulls back, their mouths splitting with a wet noise. He says, “Don’t distract me with kisses, you should sleep!”

And then, completely involuntary and spurred by pure instinct, Kun blurts out, “I love you.”

At first, Ten whines indignantly, “Kun!” But slowly, as he probably sees expectation blatant on Kun’s face, Ten’s countenance changes to one of dread.

It’s too late to regret it now.

“I love you,” Kun repeats, louder this time, a little more sure of it. Ten shivers and Kun can actually feel it on his own body. He looks down at Ten’s arm, running his index finger through the length of the forearm, feeling the bumps on Ten’s skin, hairs standing on end.

Obviously, Ten didn’t expect this from Kun, which is kind of baffling. He should have been able to see it coming.

“You’re serious,” Ten mutters, eyes shifting between Kun’s. The fluttering of his eyelashes makes him feel even more ethereal than he usually does. His roots are growing and his hair is a little bit wild on one side, but Ten still looks like he’s been custom made for maximum damage to Kun’s sanity. It almost makes him forget that he just confessed and Ten is looking rather panicky.

“I’m serious,” Kun confirms, refusing to let Ten’s uncertainty bleed into his resolve. He’s still not sure where it came from, but now it’s here, and Kun isn’t going to take anything back.

“Um.” Ten lowers his eyes, breath coming out a bit ragged. His hands slide off Kun, and he stands. “Maybe we should talk about it in the morning. When you’re not so tired.”

_I’ll still love you in the morning,_ Kun wants to argue. He just lets Ten entwine their fingers together and pull him towards the bedroom, heavy silence filling every nook and cranny between them.

\-- 1 --

They meet because of Jihoon.

In a very unfortunate twist of fate, Jihoon broke an arm while trying to rollerskate, an incident that sparked several snarky comments from Chanyeol, who thought it was hilarious that someone as tiny thus so close to the ground as Jihoon could have had such a bad landing that his bone split in half.

The bottom line is that Jihoon has a gig as an accompanist for the city ballet company in the mornings. That’s where Kun comes in to save the day on half an hour of sleep and a large cup of coffee from his favorite place. 

Kun didn’t really want to fill in for Jihoon, they’d been swamped with work since Chanyeol took over two rap tracks for an idol group they’d never worked with before on top of everything else. Chanyeol always runs hard, but he goes harder when it’s a first-time job. It all spiraled into Kun and Jihoon getting in charge of mixing the score they were supposed to hand over for a drama premiering in a few weeks while Chanyeol hyper fixated on the idol tracks. 

Then Jihoon busted his arm, and although he could be helpful from the comfort of the couch in the studio as Kun maneuvered sequences around the mixing software, there wasn’t much that he could do but offer insight. 

Jihoon also couldn’t play the piano, which is how Kun _knows_ there’s definitely a spot in heaven with his name engraved in sparkly letters. He’s been running himself ragged around that score but Jihoon needed a substitute, and Kun felt bad that he had such weak bone structure.

It’s early, Jihoon told him to get there at half-past six despite the first class starting at seven. There isn’t a reception in the building, so someone buzzes Kun in once he announces what he’s there for and he roams around cluelessly until a schedule is found on a random bulletin board. Apparently, he should be in studio 4 accompanying someone called ‘Kwon’. 

Kun does find studio 4 after more aimless walking, but by then it’s a quarter to seven. The studio is quite sizeable, mirrors and bars everywhere exactly as you would expect from a dance room. There’s already someone in there, stretching.

“Hi,” he calls from the door, making his timid way inside as the man turns to face him. “My name is Kun. I’m Jihoon’s replacement for the week.”

The man’s mouth forms a perfect oh shape, and he says, “Oh, right! I heard he got into an accident, is he alright?”

“Still alive,” Kun says, going straight to the grand piano sitting in a corner. There are several sheets spread on the lid, the same documents Jihoon e-mailed him last week when Kun agreed to this. He went over the music and Jihoon helped him with the pacing, but overall, Kun was glad that his time accompanying his high school ballet class wouldn’t go to complete waste.

Dumping his bag near the piano, Kun glances at the man and notices he’s quite small, wearing a long-sleeved grey shirt tucked into extremely fitted black pants. His hair is blond and a little on the longer side, tied back in the smallest ponytail ever, some bobby pins keeping stray strands in place. 

Tilting his head, Kun questions, “Are you ‘Kwon’?”

“Oh, no!” The other guy is quick to reply, waving his hands in front of his body. “That’s Boa, the ballet mistress of this class. I’m just a dancer. Usually, I come in a bit earlier and Jihoon will play a piece or two for me.”

The way he’s looking at Kun (head downturned, lower lip caught beneath his teeth) suggests that he’s hopeful to receive the same treatment he gets from Jihoon. Even from a distance, Kun can see this man’s got a pair of the most gorgeous eyes Kun’s ever seen.

“If I’m gonna be playing for you, shouldn’t you at least tell me your name?” He teases, arching a single eyebrow as the other man takes a few tentative steps closer. As he approaches, Kun can see the glint of a golden chain around his neck.

“I’m Ten,” he offers easily, his gaze relentless on Kun’s face. Somehow, as they stand there in the middle of the empty studio, Kun gets the feeling that Ten doesn’t fear much.

“Okay,” Kun complies, finally taking a seat by the piano. He lifts the fallboard, turning to face Ten once he’s settled. “What do you want me to play?”

It’s hard not to mess up his notes when he’s a lot more interested in the dancer pirouetting around the room than the instrument he’s trying to play. 

(For the record, Kun didn’t free fall into love with Ten. It was a painstakingly gradual process, but in hindsight, it probably started that very day.)

\-- 2 --

By the time Jihoon finally healed and got his seat at the city ballet back, Ten had already become a part of Kun’s life, and he fit in like the most clichéd of puzzle pieces. 

Between daily coffee runs and early morning private dance rehearsals, Kun guessed growing close was inevitable. Soon enough Kun had a permanent backstage pass to all of the company’s shows and Ten was spending the night over after movie sessions with Kun and Yangyang.

Right now they’re celebrating Sicheng, another first soloist from the city ballet, on his first creation of a role. Creating a role is a big deal for dancers, Kun has learned, which is why Sicheng is currently swaying in the middle of principal dancer Jongin Kim’s fancy penthouse, a half-filled bottle of liquor in hand as he performs a weirdly classical routine to ‘I Predict a Riot’. Kun watches everything from his seat at the bar, elegantly sipping at the green cocktail Jongin’s hired bartender mixed him.

He felt seriously out of place the first couple of times Ten brought him to a party at Jongin’s place. From the floor to the ceiling, everything in here always seems to sparkle, and Kun is a lot more used to underground joints hosting rap-battles or cozy cafés with singer-songwriter pocket shows. Jongin’s home has neither of those qualities, but it’s a safe environment for dancers to go batshit crazy without facing judgment from masters and directors. And honestly, Kun doesn’t really mind where he spends his evenings as long as Ten is around.

Ten, who’d previously sauntered off with eyes glinting suspiciously, comes back to Kun wearing the longest face he’s seen all night. 

“Why are you pouting?” Kun questions, nudging Ten with an elbow.

Instead of taking a seat, Ten just leans into Kun and mumbles, “Yukhei doesn’t want to hook up.”

Kun snorts. A pang of annoyance makes itself known inside him, and he does his best to smother it by downing his drink. It burns as he swallows. Wonderful. Kun asks, “Did you want to make out with him that bad?”

Rolling his eyes, Ten says, “He’s going after Donghyuck.”

Oh. Now it makes sense. Donghyuck Lee, the newest addition to the soloist line-up. He’d been in the corps for about a year before the promotion. Donghyuck was already gathering up attention in the corps as a _coryphée_ ; an overall talented kid who loves standing in the spotlight too much to bother acting humble. 

The thing is, Donghyuck’s ego and arrogance are seen as endearing by most of the staff. Kun happens to agree, since Donghyuck _is_ quite endearing. And that’s what Ten hates the most about the kid.

That and the fact that before Donghyuck came up, Ten used to be everyone’s favorite.

The tip of Ten’s nose colors a pretty shade of pink as Yukhei sides up to Donghyuck. The two of them move to the balcony, and although it’s far from the bar where Ten and Kun sit, the clear sliding doors give them a full view of what’s going on over there. The other two come together so easily it’s hard for anyone not to assume they’ve been hooking up for a while. With a loud groan, Ten turns his back on the scene, bracing against the counter.

Kun laughs, wrapping an arm around Ten’s hunched shoulders. “Come on. You can find someone else to kiss.”

“I don’t feel like kissing anyone anymore,” Ten whines.

“Didn’t know you were that into him.” Kun actually makes it sound nonchalant.

Ten shrugs. “I’m not. He just kept talking and _talking_ about Donghyuck and I wanted to prove a point.”

“What point?”

“That I’m better than that bratty bastard,” Ten exclaims, slamming a fist on the counter. Kun worriedly eyes the delicate champagne flutes stacked nearby.

“Ten, Donghyuck is nice,” Kun says. “Stop obsessing over him.’

Now that drives Ten absolutely mad. Spinning on his heels, he comes up into Kun’s space and not in a good way. There’s pure rage in Ten’s eyes, jealousy so well disguised that one wouldn’t even notice if they weren’t looking closely.

“That kid is _not_ nice!” Ten announces to Kun and whoever stands closeby. “He keeps trying to make me look bad in front of important people!”

“He’s nineteen, that’s what teens do.”

“Yangyang is also nineteen and he’s not a demon child,” Ten refutes, blissfully unaware of the fact that Chanyeol’s new intern changed his e-mail signature, and due to his lack of attention to anything that’s not music, Chanyeol spent a little over a week sending e-mails automatically signed ‘Park Dobby - PRODUCER OF EARS’.

In lieu of unveiling Yangyang’s true colors, Kun shoots, “Hey, here’s an idea. Let’s go back to my place. We could watch something, chill with no Donghyuck around.”

Ten halts. His brows smooth over, and the finger poking at Kun’s chest is replaced by arms around his torso. “Will you cuddle me to sleep afterward?” He asks.

Kun smiles fondly, running a hand through Ten’s hair. Ten chases the warmth of his touch, eyes threatening to fall closed. Kun wouldn’t be surprised if Ten took to purring every time he’s pet. “Sure, Tennie,” he says, feeling awfully powerless. “If that’s what you want.”

\-- 3 --

It’s like Ten has some kind of in-built sensor that tingles every single time Kun needs something. You see, Kun isn’t very good at asking for help, he’d much rather suffer silently than burden someone with problem-solving that should be done by him. 

Ten, however, works in a very particular and magical kind of way. Amazingly, he always seems to know when to step in. Like the time Kun had a flu and a deadline in the same week and Ten practically moved into Kun’s apartment in order to make sure he wouldn’t die from either starvation or drowning in his own snot. That week was truly awful, but having Ten close at all times did make up for dealing with Chanyeol’s frantic voice messages plus the symptoms of an illness.

This is the fifteenth time Kun replays Jihoon’s beat tonight, and he still can’t make the guitar riffs sound coherent. He’s the only one left in the studio, Yangyang having waved him a tired good night a solid hour ago. It’s way past midnight, the tracks are all starting to turn into mindless noise, Kun is having a hard time even recalling what the issue with riffs is.

His phone rings. It’s Ten.

“Hey Ten,” he says, using his feet to push the chair away from the desk for a moment, fingers pressing into his eyelids.

“Hi, baby, buzz me in!” Ten chirps, too awake and cheerful for two in the morning.

Kun looks dumbly around the studio, a bit disappointed that he’s not home. He’d love to see Ten right now. “Oh, sorry, Tennie, I’m at the studio.”

Ten chuckles. “I know, you texted me earlier about a guitar riff or something? 

Kun blinks, holding the phone against his ear.

So. Ten’s here? “You’re here?”

“Yes, dumbass, just let me in! I’ve got food!”

Apparently, Ten’s sensor tingled as he was grocery shopping and got Kun’s guitar riff text. Which is how he finds himself shedding his coat and flopping down on the couch, pushing take-out bags onto the coffee table. 

The only thing Kun is able to do is watch him in absolute bewilderment. 

“How…?”

Ten catches his question. “How did I know you needed a pick-me-up?” He snorts. “Kun, it’s really late. You know things stop making sense after 2 am.”

On one of their earliest coffee runs, Ten confessed he used to pull crazy all-nighters in the dance studio and resort to questionable methods to avoid collapsing. When he realized that kind of practice wasn’t at all healthy, he came up with the theory that past 2 am, you won’t be productive any longer. Ten says that it’s a good method to stop himself from pushing too hard; convincing your own brain that it only functions normally until a certain time.

Maybe that’s why Kun can’t work late anymore. It’s like all of his thoughts turn into juice and his cerebral functions just slow down. He’s sure there’s a scientific explanation for it, but for the sake of keeping it simple, he’ll just go with Ten’s theory.

Ten, who’s been watching him in earnest, eyes sparkling like there’s nothing he’d rather do than sit on this stinky couch with Kun and eat take-out food. The minute Kun allows his weight to fall onto the couch, Ten scoots impossibly closer, massaging the back of Kun’s neck.

That’s something he does a lot. Ten’s a naturally touchy person, Kun got used to his clingy ways rather quickly, but in the beginning it just meant a hand on his shoulder, maybe a tug on his earlobe. Then arms around his waist, unexpected back hugs and linked pinkies. It seems like their dynamics suffered yet another upgrade. 

As he works the kinks outta Kun’s neck and shoulders, Ten bends forward as if they’ve done it countless times, and presses his lips to the edge of Kun’s jaw.

“Are you okay?” He asks, lips too close to Kun’s skin, close enough to make it itch when his breath hits warm on Kun’s cheek. And since all that Kun manages to do is nod like a moron, Ten grins and fucking kisses him again.

Except that this time it’s a mouth kiss. Soft, plump lips touch his, and Kun feels like the ground has just opened up below him and he’s tripping over himself, spilling straight into a bottomless void. 

Can he even call it a kiss? It’s just a peck, really, and that’s probably how Ten feels about it. They’re friends, and they have a habit of touching each other. It’s not a big deal, is it? A kiss is touching too, it falls under the same umbrella as holding hands and cuddling to sleep, and they do that all the time. It’s not a kiss. 

It’s only when Ten laughs, amused, that Kun notices he’s been staring. Probably with a dumbfounded look on his face, too. Ten gives his shoulder one last squeeze, and says, “Let’s eat. I got us some fried chicken.”

Ten moves to get all the boxes out of the bags. His hair, no longer blonde but still kept long, is held back by a black beanie, but a couple of strands fall from their encasing, and Ten pushes them behind his ear before adjusting his hat. Kun is positive that his heart skips a damn beat.

“I liked that,” he surprises himself by admitting out loud. He could blame it on his senses and how they’ve slowed to a near stop, but the truth is that he means it. Kun liked it. He wouldn’t mind doing it again.

“Yeah?” Ten replies absently, hands still working on the take-out boxes. The food smells amazing. Ten faces Kun briefly, smiling naturally as if they haven’t done anything remotely unusual. “Okay, Kun.”

Kun eyes Ten quietly as he arranges the food in front of them. Inside him, the cogs and systems turn rapidly. A shift; and a big one at that. 

Perhaps things _do_ stop making sense after 2 am.

\-- 4 --

At least twice a month Kun takes advantage of his backstage pass and watches Ten’s show. Every single time Kun exits the theater equal parts out of breath and mesmerized. Ten owns the stage with his dance, commandeering the eyes of the audience, keeping every pair glued to his form. He's a spectacle all on his own.

Then again, Kun might just be a tiny bit infatuated to say for sure.

It obviously escalates from that first (friendly) kiss. Kun should have guessed it would, at least on his end. Ten is gorgeous and possibly the most interesting person Kun knows. Going against what grows inside him with each passing day is a battle he wouldn’t have won anyway, so he just… Conforms. 

Knowing full well that it’s a development limited to his own feelings, Kun starts questioning if he should be letting Ten kiss him good morning and good night on a daily basis, how okay it is to be on the receiving end of such a demonstration of affection and friendship when that’s not all for him. 

Observing how Ten interacts with his other friends, Kun notices that he doesn’t kiss anyone else on the lips. Ten hugs a lot and keeps close to people he loves and trusts, but it’s not the same. None of those touches linger, nor seem as intimate. It might be Kun’s feelings clouding his perception, but maybe… _Maybe_ there’s a chance that the way Ten feels about Kun differs from how he feels about his other friends.

The confirmation comes one Friday evening after the city ballet show.

As Puck, Ten wears a leaf crown and an incredibly tight attire that just looks like a bunch of dried flowers glued on top of green spandex and something that looks like mesh. Surprisingly, it looks good on him. The make-up helps; kohl-lined eyes and glitter on the lids, the cheeks, his upper lip. Ten’s hair, which is dark and much shorter than Kun’s ever seen, is styled away from his forehead, in a way that makes him almost seem wild.

The minute Ten spots Kun standing in front of the dressing room, his whole sweaty face lights up, and he runs, absolutely launching himself at Kun.

Letting out an ‘oof’ sound when Ten’s weight pushes him against the wall, Kun hugs him back around the waist with both arms.

“Hey, Ten. You were amazing,” Kun says. Ten smells like sweat and hairspray; Kun still buries his nose on his forehead, plants a kiss there.

Ten backs away, giving Kun just enough time to see the spark in his eyes before he’s coming forward for a kiss.

After a while of this, Kun has learned to expect it. Ten acts like he’s not doing anything much when he steps back and loosens up his hold on Kun’s neck, letting his forearms linger on Kun’s shoulders as he caresses Kun’s nape. Even though he’s just been kissed, Kun doubts that the fog in his brain comes from the press of Ten’s lips on his. It’s so much more than that.

“Thanks for coming,” Ten whispers, tilting his head to appraise Kun as if the fact that he showed up is somehow extraordinary.

Giving his hips a gentle squeeze, Kun replies, “I always do.”

A moment passes in which it feels like there’s something in the air, the kind of feeling that usually tightens at your heart, now scattered around and above them like mist. Ten blinks at him, then his eyes zero in on Kun’s lips.

“I know,” he says, and pounces.

Ten kisses Kun like he’s been left bare under the sun for days, thirsty, craving. He pushes Kun against the wall, uncaring of all of his colleagues and other company staff walking around, most definitely being able to see everything. Kun’s head tilts automatically back onto the wall, so Ten rises on his toes, giving chase. The moment Ten’s tongue sneaks past Kun’s lips, a surge of something primitive happens in Kun’s gut. It boils to the point of catching pure fire inside of him, coursing through his veins like it’s a part of him; like it’s alive. 

The first time they kissed was nothing compared to this. It’s exactly like Kun is drifting in space, just floating in the darkness towards this bright, burning star with which he’ll definitely collide, unable to stop himself.

Ten tastes like the tea he was drinking before the show. Strong, sweet.

With an arm firmly wrapped around Ten’s waist, Kun grabs at his jaw with his other hand, unable to refrain from seeking more, taking charge. This isn’t like any of their other chaste pecks. It doesn’t feel like a friendly kiss.

As Kun laps and bites at his lips, Ten shudders, a low moan sounding from the back of his throat, long nails dragging down the line of Kun’s neck leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Heat pools in the pit of Kun’s stomach, yearning like he doesn’t think he’s ever felt before. Ten’s fingers curl in a fist, gripping at Kun’s shirt. It’s an old Korn one, he’s worn it around Ten hundreds of times. As Ten pulls at the fabric as if he wants Kun to come even closer, Kun tightens his grip around Ten’s waist, trapping Ten’s hand between their chests.

Ten sighs heavily against Kun’s mouth when they take a quick break for air, eyelashes fluttering as his lids lift tentatively. Their eyes meet, and Kun feels entranced, like he wouldn’t be able to look away unless Ten said the word.

Whining, Ten pecks at his lips again, then one more time. “No, don’t stop,” he says. “This feels really good.”

Kun agrees. It feels good. He almost lets himself fall back into Ten’s willing, sweet mouth.

Brushing both thumbs on either side of Ten’s face, Kun asks, just for good measure, “Yeah? Do you like it?”

“I love it, Kun,” Ten mewls, nosing up the underside of Kun’s jaw, planting tiny kisses on his neck that make Kun want to curl his freaking toes. “Kiss me again.”

So Kun does. He’s always been too weak to resist Ten’s whims anyway.

It’s slower this time, soothing. It’s also shorter than the previous one. Kun laps at Ten’s tongue in a rhythm he assumes is comforting, hands sliding down Ten’s arms to reach his hands. Ten is quick to let their fingers entwine as the kiss wraps up with Kun pressing their mouths together one last time.

For a second too long, both of them stand there: Ten wearing his stage costume, Kun wearing the dumbest face ever as he gazes at Ten, skeptical that someone this hot would actually want to kiss him. This might be a glitch in the matrix, it doesn’t make sense. Yet here he is, returning Kun’s gaze as if he’s waiting for directions.

“Um,” Kun croaks, clearing his throat minutely afterward. It’s enough to make Ten chuckle. “Chanyeol and Yangyang are waiting for us. Should you go change?”

Ten nods, but there’s something odd about the way he’s watching Kun. He’s biting on his lower lip, meeting Kun’s eyes from behind his lashes. It actually looks like he’s got something to hide. Kun’s eyes sharpen, but as he observes, Ten shifts, agile hands pulling Kun’s face closer for the real last kiss.

“Thanks,” he says cheekily as he steps away, eyes never leaving Kun’s. “I’ll be right back.”

Kun’s been in the audience of many flirtation games played by Ten. It usually starts with lewd eye-fucking that leads to a mindless conversation that ends up in an inevitable hook-up. Sometimes there’s dancing or taking shots together; most times it comes and goes equally quickly.

He’s seen it happen countless times, he knows all the rules to it. Kun hasn’t been, however, the target of Ten’s pursuit.

The club they head to after the performance is known to both of them. Kun usually goes there once a month with Chanyeol and Jihoon (and more recently Yangyang) to watch their rap-battles, and Ten often accompanies him. Although tonight he can’t focus on the pair on stage for the life of him.

Ten’s been throwing him provocative glances since they left the theater. The car ride to the club was probably one of the most unnerving moments Kun’s ever spent in Ten’s company. He could tell that Ten was giving him sidelong glances, but the atmosphere in the cab was tense and so fucking thick Kun would have been able to slice it. None of them said anything the whole time, yet, as soon as they were out of the car, Ten’s hands were seeking Kun.

Yeah, Ten is a clingy creature. Kun is used to his antics and he’d always been happy to oblige because it didn’t feel like he’d get eaten in a single bite by doing so. Because that’s how Ten is looking at Kun tonight, like he’s a five-course meal sitting by the door of Ten’s hotel room. Just there for the taking.

It’s funny, they’ve been friends for a while and Ten never hinted at being attracted to Kun. He’d charm the entire world population, but there was some sort of wall separating Kun from all the other individuals that Ten would flirt with (pretty much everyone they know). Even after the kissing started, it stayed at that. Kun would wonder and question, but Ten didn’t give him any signs.

Until this.

Throughout the night, Ten has made use of pretty much every single move on his playbook. There was eye-fucking, then convincing Kun to buy him a drink (Not that Kun doesn’t buy him drinks on the regular. This one was just… It was different), then finally laughing at whatever stupid thing Kun says.

His odd behavior sparks curiosity in Chanyeol, who keeps glancing between them suspiciously but doesn’t say anything. A lot more sensible than Yangyang, who straight-up blurts: “You two finally fucking?”

Kun, halfway through a sip of his drink, splutters and coughs violently, being patted on the back by a quietly amused Jihoon.

Ten promptly ignores the question, hopping off his chair and pulling Kun by the hand. “Can you help me in the bathroom?”

Kun doesn’t know what help he could possibly offer Ten in the fucking bathroom, but he isn’t given a chance to say no.

They don’t reach the bathroom. Ten leads them through the crowd and into a corner of the club Kun doesn’t remember ever visiting. He might have a clue of how Ten found it, though. It’s a long hallway, there are two pay phones on the wall, a couple of dim purple lights and posters for upcoming events. It’s completely empty. 

Once they’ve walked past the payphones and out of sight, Ten pushes Kun against the wall, absolutely no distance between them. Kun gasps in surprise, jaw slack at the intent in Ten’s eyes. It’s literally like Kun is prey. 

He swallows, voice shaky as he asks “What do you want, Ten?”

“Do you really have to ask to know?” He taunts, angling his head so he’s watching Kun with half-lidded eyes, the line of his throat exposed.

Kun pauses, rakes his eyes down Ten’s neck, his collarbones. Ten’s shrugged off the flannel he changed into as soon as they entered the club, the piece of clothing now tied around his hips. That left him in this really thin, stretched white tank with that leaves little to Kun’s imagination. He’s positive that if he yanked at the straps, the whole thing would just fall apart.

Kun’s throat feels dry as fuck.

“I don’t know if I can give you what you want,” he says, voice low as a whisper.

Ten hums, lowering his eyes to Kun’s chin. Ten slides his knuckles down Kun’s neck, hooks a finger on the collar of Kun’s tee. He says, “Yes, you can,” and presses closer. Yet another shiver runs down Kun’s spine as Ten plants a wet, open-mouthed kiss at his jaw, trailing up till he reaches the base of Kun’s ear.

He wants it. Kun wants Ten, he’s been wanting for a while and he doubts he’s been able to hide it from anyone. _’You two finally fucking?’_ Yangyang asked. Kun’s worst kept secret. The question is: Will he be able to handle the aftermath of hooking up with Ten? There’s going to be one, he’s fully aware. Is Kun willing to take a chance?

“Come on, Kun,” Ten insists, long fingers curling at the back of Kun’s neck. 

_Fuck_.

Taken, compliant, Kun asks weakly, “Is it just for tonight?”

It might be a trick of the light, but Ten hesitates for a second, blinking in surprise as if he didn’t expect that sort of question.

“Yeah, sure,” He finally says, but his eyes don’t meet Kun’s. It’s interesting. Kun frowns, wondering if he should ask. He doesn’t get the chance, as Ten grabs both sides of his face, thumbs pushing at his cheekbones. 

For the first time tonight, Ten seems unsure. 

“Just…” He says, taking a deep breath and bringing his eyes back to Kun’s. “Please.”

For some reason, Kun understands. It feels like putting it into words nullifies the simplicity of asking your best friend to make out with you. Makes it bigger, scarier. Or maybe that isn’t it. Maybe there’s something else hiding behind Ten’s brief moment of uncertainty. Kun wouldn’t be able to guess what, so he just throws his doubts out of the window and kisses Ten.

Every drop of want Ten pours into his mouth travels downwards, making it hard for Kun to think about anything but Ten, Ten’s lips, Ten’s hands on his face, Ten’s tongue, the way Ten whimpers when Kun squeezes him over the waist (such a tiny waist). Kun doesn’t think as he untucks Ten’s tank from the hold of the flannel around his hips, the knot keeping it tight loosening dangerously. There isn’t a single thought in his head as Kun’s hand slips underneath Ten’s shirt, exploring the expanse of his abdomen, gliding up his ribs. Ten takes in a ragged breath, yelping as Kun pulls him in and switches their positions.

Ten tilts his head back, lips parted and eyes glazed. His tongue pokes out to swipe over his lower lip. Kun places his forearms on the wall, on either side of Ten’s face. Standing close like this makes it possible for Ten to come just a tiny bit forward and have their noses brushing. Kun can’t help but smile fondly.

“You really like this, don’t you?” Kun asks, teasing, relishing in the way he just knows Ten is blushing, even if he’s not able to fully see it under these purple lights.

Ten nods, eyes falling closed as he licks across Kun’s mouth. He whispers, “Love the way you kiss me.”

Kun bites his chin, kissing down Ten’s neck, his shoulder, the clavicle. It certainly catches Ten off guard when Kun hoists him up, hands sneaking down the plane of his back to settle on his thighs.

“Oh!” He breathes, arm circling Kun’s neck as his other hand grips at Kun’s arm and his legs wrap tightly around Kun.

“Hi,” Kun says, smiling up at him. Ten’s face morphs from apprehension to ease.

“Hey,” he replies, leaning his forehead into Kun’s, placing a light, gentle kiss to the curve of Kun’s upper lip. 

With this kind of proximity, it’s easy for Kun to pick apart Ten’s natural skin scent and the fragrance Kun helped him choose at the store the other day. An intoxicating combination. Kun knew it was a good choice, it’s sort of ironic that he gets to experience it first hand, and in this particular kind of scenario.

Kun’s hands find their way back under Ten’s shirt, rubbing at his lower back, digging into the dimples there. Ten arches, mouth falling open as the bumps on his skin rise below Kun’s touch. Kun takes Ten’s mouth again, kissing him so slowly and deeply they both forget who the fuck they are. It’s slick and so smooth in the seamless way their mouths blend into one another, saliva pooling on the sides of Kun’s mouth every time he changes the angle and brushes his tongue against Ten’s. They part for a bit, take equally short breaths, then come together again.

It transitions into something hot and desperate, Kun’s fingers pulling the already precarious collar of Ten’s tank down, rubbing his neck, pulling at his hair. Ten moans into Kun’s mouth when his lips are bitten, hips rolling so his crotch grinds against Kun’s belly. It expands.

“Kun,” Ten pants, mouth gliding up the line of Kun’s cheek. “Take me home, please.”

For the umpteenth time tonight, Kun doesn’t allow himself to think.

\-- 5 --

They sleep together. It unfolds like a binding act; something that was fated to happen no matter what circumstances led to it. Funnily enough, Kun knows exactly how to press into Ten, where to kiss him, what crevices and planes of his body to breathe into in order to drive him insane. From falling naked into bed to the moment Ten draws Kun closer, chest to chest, sweat and come and maybe a whole load of feelings mixing together, it feels natural. Having Ten lodge his face into his neck feels natural. Falling asleep with their legs tangled and waking up with Ten cradled in his arms feels natural.

(That’s when Kun realizes he’s fallen in love with Ten. When the want inside him augments into wishfully thinking he could have this every day.)

\-- 6 --

Ten slaps his folded legs, slightly bending with the force of his laughter before settling back against Kun. Kun’s arm has been draped across the backrest of Ten’s chair throughout the evening, a gesture he didn’t even think about until he felt Ten lean into him.

The meeting spot for tonight is a rooftop bar. Since the air has grown colder, people resort to packing themselves in warmer clothing. That notion apparently skipped Ten, who decided to come out wearing t-shirt and jeans. Despite Ten looking great in purple, Kun still offers him his jacket, which now sits comfortably around Ten’s shoulders.

Kun’s been noticing their friends’ suspicious stares, although most of them refuse to comment on the blatant change in the way Kun and Ten interact. Sure, they used to be attached at the hip, but the kissing wasn’t part of the equation, and Ten makes sure every single person on that table catches every damn kiss they share. Like he’s doing it on purpose.

Or maybe he can’t stop himself. Kun would be able to relate to that.

When Yukhei goes out for a smoke, Kun accompanies him. 

“So,” Yukhei starts, eyes narrowing as he blows out smoke. “You and Ten, huh?”

Kun almost confirms. He would, except that he doesn’t know what’s _him and Ten_. What are they? They make out pretty much every time they meet, and Ten’s pulled Kun into his bed at least three times now. It’s certainly something, but maybe not what Kun’d hope for.

He doesn’t know what to tell Yukhei, so he just shrugs. “I’m not sure.”

Yukhei frowns. “What do you mean? You guys are dating, right?”

They didn’t talk about it. The morning after that first time, Ten woke up to a lighter mood and the same patterns of behavior he exhibited the previous night. Touchy, starved for affection and with a need to be kissed. They didn’t go past midday without falling back into each other. Much happened that day, but talking wasn’t on the repertoire. It hasn’t been since then.

Kun glances out into the patio where the tables are disposed, watches as Ten steals a sip of Sicheng’s drink. 

“I don’t know, man,” Kun sighs, lips tightening. Yukhei is still frowning.

“But,” he looks between Kun and Ten’s general direction. “You… Maybe you should sort that out.”

He knows Yukhei is right. Things are too clouded right now, they have been for a hot minute, and Kun is afraid it’s growing too big for him to escape when it inevitably blows up in his face.

Yet, it’s physically impossible for him to refuse when Ten pulls him closer with arms around his neck the minute Kun returns to his seat, mouth already putting a soft kiss on the corner Kun’s mouth like they’ve been apart for much longer than ten minutes. 

He must see something on Kun’s face; his brows knit a little, and he asks, “Are you okay?”

Kun could tell him the truth. That he feels so fucking happy whenever they’re together like this, but he can’t figure out if it’s real or if it’s just another one of Ten’s plays. 

Instead, his hands come around Ten’s waist, bringing him into another kiss. A longer, lifting one. 

Kun lets his lips linger when they part, whispering against Ten’s, “I’m good.”

Ten smiles at him, red painting his cheeks and the tip of his nose, which makes Kun groan and kiss him again because how could he just not?

\-- 7 --

Honestly, it’s dating. It’s dating if they text each other every waking hour and hold hands while they walk and go on coffee runs that seem a lot more like dates than friendly meet-ups. It’s dating if they have sex and spend many post-orgasm minutes just laying in bed kissing and caressing each other. For fuck’s sake, that’s dating.

They haven’t talked about it, but at this point, Kun is pretty sure.

\-- 8 --

Until Ten hooks up with some random dude at a club.

Nothing out of the ordinary, just the same sequence of moves Kun tired of watching. He didn’t think it’d play out like that when he agreed to meet Ten at the club downtown. Ten didn’t tell him the usual crowd would also be there, so Kun assumed it’d be just the two of them. Not that he minded the company of Sicheng and the others, he just thought…

Well, what he thought was complete bullshit, Kun realized as Ten smiled into the kiss of some generic club dude, the strobe lights highlighting his skin as if it was made of sparkle dust.

He should have guessed that night was different when Ten didn’t kiss him right away. Kun should have known.

Ten did come around eventually, glistening with sweat from all that dancing, siding up to Kun with a hand on his arm. “Hey, baby, you good?”

“Yep,” Kun said, smiling at him, praying to all gods that his face didn’t betray him. He was lucky none of their friends were around at the time. Kun’s positive his semblance wouldn’t have fooled any of them.

Oblivious, Ten kissed his shoulder and sauntered off. Kun paid his tab and went home.

The next morning, all the thoughts Kun’d been repressing roamed free.

Was he just another notch on Ten’s bedpost? Why the hell did Ten go around it like Kun was his boyfriend? Wiping milk foam off his lower lip and kissing Kun’s knuckles after warming up his hands. Brushing Kun’s hair back when they laid in bed in the morning, then giggling as Kun shampooed his hair in the shower because for some reason it made him ticklish. The kind of domesticity they let into their relationship isn’t one to be found in regular friendships. 

Then again, Ten never promised Kun anything. In fact, he said it’d just happen once. Kun is the one who went ahead and let nonsensical ideas fill his mind. He was right about Ten being attracted to him, but maybe that was it. Physical attraction. Sexual tension. They got rid of it, maybe everything will go back to normal now.

What is normal anymore, though? Nowadays, normal is Ten going to the studio to keep him company when Kun works late. It’s to put on a movie and cuddle under the covers and then make out when it gets boring. Normal is to wake up early on a Sunday to fix breakfast because Ten holds Sunday breakfast sacred. Coming home to find Ten freshly showered and wearing Kun’s clothes because he got off work earlier and used his spare key. It’s normal that Kun will feel this odd clench in his chest in the middle of the day if he goes too long without talking to Ten, and instead of just texting or calling like a regular person he’ll just surprise Ten at the company building. And it’s normal that Ten will be happy to see him.

Normal, to them, is to slowly undress each other under the dim lights of Kun’s living room, their playlist of the week lulling all of their moves and touches. It’s to whisper each other’s names as they release, it’s to say how good they make each other feel.

There used to be another kind of normal, Kun knows that. He’s just not sure how to go back to that and pretend he’s not head over heels in love with Ten.

\-- 9 --

Kun didn’t mean to ghost Ten. It’s true that he left Ten’s countless texts unanswered, and when Yangyang started asking questions, Kun told him to just mind his own business. Still, he didn’t mean it to come across as ghosting. Kun just needed time.

He goes through that week as if a limb is missing in his body, and by the end of it, he feels he’s spent all that time lost in a dark and mysterious forest with the lingering thought that he wouldn’t manage to make it out of there by himself.

So Kun finally texts Ten back, and they meet.

The café is their regular -- Kun loves the pretzels here, and Ten doesn’t mind ordering the strawberry-covered chocolate mousse ‘cause he never has to deal with them due to Kun gladly eating the top layer. The ambiance is pretty cozy, and the drinks are tasty. 

Ten sits at a corner table by the window -- a favorite of theirs, and the sight of him watching Kun make his way inside, beanie clutched tight in his hands, has Kun’s heart speeding up. It’s just been a week, yet, it feels like an eternity has gone by. 

Approaching the table, Kun sees that there are two drinks there. Ten must have ordered as he waited. 

“Hey,” Kun says, removing his coat and dumping it on the chair next to the one he sits on.

“Hi,” Ten replies. There’s something about his eyes today. They keep flickering between Kun’s, a bit too wide. Like he’s anxious.

“Have you been waiting long?”

Ten shakes his head. His hair, grown a little shorter than his eyebrows, flops with the movement. It looks good, swept to the side like that, probably the weather’s doing. It’s windy outside. Kun notices that Ten is wearing a thin sweater. As expected of someone who cannot dress for the cold.

“Just got here.” He seems to remember the drinks and pushes Kun’s towards him. “I ordered. The usual.”

It’s tense. There’s something surrounding them, being held in suspension. It threatens to fall to the ground and shatter into a billion pieces like tempered glass if any of them decide to stop holding it there. Kun can’t pinpoint what it is, but he knows where it comes from. That’s probably why Ten looks so jittery.

“How have you been?” Kun asks, trying to navigate the atmosphere. Perhaps, if they try, he and Ten can dig up a path in the middle and… Communicate.

Ten sighs, shoulders sagging. Eyes downcast, he replies, “Fine. Rehearsals have been gruesome. I’m really tired.” His gaze searches Kun’s, exhaustion so evident. “It’s been a while. How are you? I tried texting, but. Um. Yangyang said you guys were super busy.”

That’s what Kun told Yangyang to say when Ten called and asked about Kun. “Yeah, we’ve been busy. Sorry I didn’t keep track of my texts.”

Accepting, Ten presses his lips into a thin line. “Is everything okay? It’s like…” His lashes flutter as he blinks, eyes wandering around Kun. “I feel like you’ve been avoiding me.”

Ah. So he knows. Ten knows there’s something wrong, and judging by how uneasy he looks, he might even have a clue on what. 

The worst thing about all of this is that Kun feels awful seeing those kinds of emotions written on Ten’s face. Ten is pretty much a synonym of coolness and assurance. Doubt doesn’t agree with him, Kun thinks, and it doesn’t sit well with him to be the one to put it over Ten. Maybe he should have texted sooner. Even if to say he needed time.

“I’m sorry,” Kun replies, honest. He’s positive to convey that in his tone. “That wasn’t my intention.”

Ten watches him for a moment, thoughtful. Little by little, the lines on his face smooth out, and he says, “Okay. How have you been, then?”

“Good. Work is hectic, like you know. Just got a super exciting deal, I’m going to be composing music for this soloist.”

When Ten’s eyes light up and the corners of his mouth lift, Kun knows his reaction is genuine. “Really? Wow, that’s sick! Congrats!”

Kun smiles. “Thanks.” 

He could end it right here. There’s no need to delve past Kun’s work accomplishments, anything else that happened this week was just background noise. Like the stuff Kun decides to announce against his better judgment: 

“I’m on Tinder now. There’s this really nice guy I’ll be meeting tomorrow.”

The speed at which Ten’s face falls would be funny if not heartbreakingly surprising.

“Oh.” He blinks at Kun, eyes sliding down to the beanie in his hands. It’s the black, simple one Kun’s seen him wear many times. In Winter, that hat is like an extension of Ten’s own body. It brings Kun fond memories. Ten continues, “That’s good.”

His words fall flat, and all the progress their exchange seemed to have brought upon is utterly lost as Ten stands up.

“Um. I have to go,” he says absently, looking around himself. “I forgot I… Um… Sorry, let’s just--”

Panic lodges itself snug inside Kun. It makes his throat feel tight, and his pulse run quicker. Kun also stands.

“Hey, wait a second. What’s wrong?” He questions, searching Ten’s face.

Ten shakes his head. He still won’t match Kun’s gaze. “Nothing, I just--”

Kun urges, “Ten? Look at me.” And Ten does, yet obviously on auto-pilot because his whole face colors a bright red the minute they make eye contact. “Is it because I mentioned my date?”

The reply doesn’t come. Silence fills the air, and Kun lets it float around for a bit before insisting. The truth is that Kun wasn’t really thinking about going to that date. He was going to text the dude an apology saying he’d be busy with work for the upcoming weeks and delete the app. Tinder was a stupid idea anyways, he didn’t know what he was doing half the time he swiped right on someone. Yeah, he talked to some people, but that was just it. Talking. Kun didn’t even want it to mean anything.

He could explain that to Ten. It could be a bad move, he might have read this entire situation wrong. It’s still worth a shot, he thinks. Ten is definitely worth a shot. “If you don’t want me to go,” he says carefully, not daring to blink, “just say so. I won’t go if you tell me not to.”

Ten doesn’t waste a second. “Don’t go,” he says, like he’d just been waiting for an opportunity. As if he wasn’t sure he had a right. Like Kun himself when he saw Ten and that club dude together and didn’t feel like it was his place to be jealous. They’re talking about such a blurred, uncertain line that neither of them know if it’d be okay to cross it.

It’s stupid, but hope sparks in Kun’s chest.

“Okay. I won’t. But you have to tell me why.”

They look at each other long enough for Kun to see the dry patches on Ten’s lips. He clearly hasn’t been applying lip balm without Kun there to remind him. Kun takes it upon himself to push the subject forward. This is it, there won’t be another chance. 

“See, Ten, I thought there was something here. Tell me if I’m wrong, but I really thought we were something.”

“You’re not wrong,” Ten says. “There is something.”

“What is it, then? I’ve been waiting for you to say something since _you_ were the one to start all of this,” Kun gestures about, leading a hand to his hair, not knowing what to do with it. He pauses, exhales. Shuts his eyes for a second. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t. I just… I guess I was afraid.” Ten’s voice is shaky when he speaks. Kun thinks the last time he heard it sound like that was on the day Ten premiered the last character of his creation. They were both backstage, Ten was already in costume, this peach-colored thing covered in sequins and glitter, and he looked gorgeous, but his confidence was cracking. Kun held him in the muffled silence of an empty dressing room for a couple of minutes, then whispered words of reassurance into Ten’s lips. Those kisses were still the chaste ones back then, enough to have Ten’s shoulders relaxing, boldness returning to his eyes. 

“Why?” He questions.

The smile Ten offers him is small, timid around the edges. There’s tenderness in it, though, Kun feels it wash over him like a wave. “Because it feels real with you.”

The spark ignites and evolves into a supernova in Kun’s chest; the becoming of a universe inside him. It’s wide-ranging enough that he nearly forgets everything else amid the loud pounding of his heart.

“I saw you kissing that dude,” Kun says. Ten’s eyes widen; he attempts to school them back into normalcy. “It made me wonder.”

“What?” Ten asks faintly.

“If I was just like him.”

Deep in the rational thinking part of Kun’s brain lies the certainty that he’s definitely not like that club rando. Kun knows it’s not the same, it never would be. Things might not have been set in stone or said out loud, but there’s stuff you can infer from gestures and words, and touches and moments. Ten never told him anything; still, Kun could see how different it was with them, how specific and particular.

So when Ten looks at him, fearful, hands hesitating mid-air as if he meant to touch Kun, but second-guessed it halfway through, Kun knows what he’s going to say. 

“No!” He exclaims. It’s loud, some people on the tables nearby turn to glance at them. Ten clears his throat and repeats at a lower volume, “No, you know that’s not true. That… That was a stupid thing, that whole night was awful. I regretted it the minute it was done, and then I came to find you, but I had to use the restroom and when I came back you were gone.”

“You said so yourself, that night was awful.”

“I’m sorry,” Ten continues urgently. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything, I’m sorry I left you hanging for months. I’m so sorry for acting like you could read my mind.”

Sometimes Kun felt like he could. It’s the weirdest, nicest feeling, being able to read Ten like he knows him inside out. 

“It’s okay. I’m sorry I left. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything either.”

A minute passes, and Kun finally notices they’re still standing on either side of the table, the other café customers doing a horrible job of pretending they’re not watching them. Kun plants himself back onto his chair, pointing his chin so that Ten will do the same.

“So,” Ten restarts. “Where does that leave us?”

Kun’s got many ideas. All of them start with both of them going home together, hand in hand, then cranking up the heater and putting on one of those bad movies that are just flimsy excuses to make out lazily in bed.

What he says is, “Back to how we were, except now, we communicate. Here’s the first attempt: Ten, do you want to date?”

Ten grins at him, his whole face going red, and Kun feels that weird tension that’d been hanging around them dissipate. It’s so fucking clear with the way Ten is looking at him that they’re on the same page.

“That sounds awesome,” Ten says.

There’s more to talk about, but Kun guesses they can leave that to some other time. For now, this is enough.

\-- 10 --

Things don’t really change after they begin officially dating. It’s the same routine they’ve been going at for months, the only difference is that now their friends get to verbalize all of the outraging thoughts they’d been keeping to themselves that entire time.

“Congrats, I guess. I mean, we all knew.”

“Maybe now Ten will stop faking going to the grocery store every time Kun gives him a booty call.” 

“Ugh, so now y’all will force that gross PDA shit down our throats?” 

They absolutely do. 

\-- 11 --

Ten’s birthday is approaching and Kun’s been so busy with work that he didn’t even have time to figure out what to get as a gift. He’s been doing ballet stuff since the first year, but maybe Kun could up his game a little now that they’re together.

He’s mixing The Track when it hits him.

This very track was ordered for a soloist who’s been working with Chanyeol for a while now. His style is mostly emotional, smooth r&b type songs with the occasional rap, beat-heavy track, which is where Chanyeol comes in. This time around, the company asked Chanyeol for the former -- a smooth r&b type thing -- which he could do, but that kind of sound happens to be Kun’s area of expertise. So Chanyeol entrusted the whole composition of the music to him. It’s Kun’s first solo project ever since he started working with Chanyeol.

And only now, as he ponders over what to gift Ten for his birthday, it dawns on him that Kun wrote this entire piece for Ten.

It’s soothing, but sharp and edgy when it has to be. Every time Kun plays the track, it hits him in all the right places, sweet and sensuous. Kun can clearly see Ten dancing to this beat.

It’ll be on someone’s album and maybe the lyricist will make it about something else entirely, but _this_ , the music Kun wrote, is undeniably Ten.

Maybe if he can finish it by the 27th, he’ll have a gift.

\-- 12 --

Back from picking up bread, Kun finds Ten still frowning at all the milk brands in aisle 8. Letting out a resigned yet fond sigh-slash-chuckle, Kun walks up to him. 

“Why are you scowling at the dairy?”

“They don’t have almond,” Ten pouts, looking up at Kun with the saddest eyes. “I need it for the cookies.”

Ten’s roommate, Dejun, is getting a visit from his boyfriend this weekend. In a not-so-polite text, Dejun got Ten evicted from their shared apartment for the whole weekend, which didn’t turn out to be such a bother since Ten usually spends most of his weekend with Kun anyway. Kun had to be sneaky while working on The Track, but overall, the arrangement was pretty comfortable for both of them.

Circling Ten’s waist and pulling him close, Kun rests his chin on Ten’s shoulder. “Just get soy instead.”

Ten huffs in indignation, turning to glare at Kun. “Almond tastes better.”

“You’re not even going to use that much milk, why does it matter?”

“Because I want almond milk, that’s why.”

Kun hums appreciatively, loving the joy of being on the receiving end of such nagging for absolutely pointless things. He tightens his hold on Ten. “Ah, yes. What Ten wants, Ten gets.”

Ten smiles brilliantly. “That’s right, baby,” and plants a tiny kiss on the bridge of Kun’s nose. “Did you get the bread?”

“Yes,” Kun responds, straightening up without actually letting go of Ten. His arms loosen up, but his hands linger. “What’s next?”

“Almond flour,” he says, shooting one last glare at the rows of milk before pointing at the soy brands. “We’ll stop by that e-mart on our way back to yours. They’ll definitely have almond milk there.”

They do have almond milk there. They also happen to have Ten’s favorite ice-cream, which results in them making the walk back home with each holding sweet ice-cream bars. Sweeter than the bars, though, is the way Ten’s beanie-hoodie combination makes him look even tinier than he is, a tuft of hair poking underneath the black band of his hat. 

It’s been good lately. Ten’s rehearsals have slowed down a bit; Kun is almost done with The Track; business is good for Chanyeol so it’s good for Kun. The best part, however, is knowing that when Ten pulls him closer and catches Kun’s lips with his, it means exactly what Kun thinks it does. 

\-- 0 --

_You’re serious,_ Ten said. He didn’t seem to believe Kun at first. It’s understandable; neither of them are that good at expressing their feelings. They’d been together for months before becoming official without saying a word about how they felt. Now here is Kun, spewing words of love and affection, holding Ten in his arms as if there could never be anything more important in his life. He gets how that could be frightening. It’s a huge step.

He meant it, though. Kun knows his own heart, knows the rhythm it beats to when Ten is around, the speed at which it goes when Ten touches him, the way it matches Ten’s when they’re pressed against each other. Kun is in love, he has been for a while, and he doesn’t see why Ten shouldn’t know that as well.

“Hey,” he calls before Ten can lead them into the bedroom. 

Slowly, Ten turns around, his hand still entwined with Kun’s. There it is again, that look of unease and uncertainty. Kun hates that it’s there because of him.

“Hey, Ten,” he calls again, dragging Ten into him, holding him in place with hands on his hips. “I didn’t mean to put any pressure on you. I just… Wanted to tell you, that’s all.”

Ten is quick to nod and gently pat Kun’s chest. “No, I know, I know. I love you too, Kun.”

Kun doesn’t register his words right away. They’re said with so much conviction and calm that they almost pass for something else. A weather report, maybe. Ten might as well have just told him it’s raining outside. Perhaps an absolute truth. Earth is a planet. Kun is in love with Ten. Ten loves him back.

“You do?” He asks dumbly.

Ten’s face softens. He smiles, his hands rubbing over Kun’s chest affectionately as he takes a step closer. “Of course I do, you moron.”

“Well… You never said so, I didn’t--”

He snorts, brows knitting. He steps away, a mix of amazement and outrage painting his features. “Are you kidding me? You didn’t suspect anything when I started kissing you out of nowhere? I was trying so fucking hard, Kun, but you’re dense as a rock!”

Suddenly defensive, Kun spits back, “You could have, you know, _said something_?”

“I was afraid of rejection! I couldn’t tell if you were into me or not until that day at the café when you asked if I wanted to date you.”

He cannot be serious. This whole time Kun’s been pining for someone he was sure didn’t care about him the same way. He knew Ten was into him, but he refused to go the extra mile and assume it went beyond physical attraction. Kun solved the puzzle halfway and then dropped it. Still, he kept looking at it, this unsettling feeling that he should go back to it, that he should keep trying but never even took a shot at actually putting the rest of the pieces together. 

“Oh. My god.”

“I’m serious!” Ten laughs, seemingly delighted by all of this. “It was always me initiating stuff. I thought you’d take it upon yourself to escalate things after I kissed you the first time, but of course, I was being too hopeful.”

That stings a tiny bit, so Kun puffs out his chest and questions, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“That you’re an idiot! How the fuck do you tell me you love me as if you ‘came up’ with it? What the fuck?” Ten pushes him. His words have no bite and there’s actually the biggest grin on his face. Kun stumbles back in awe. “I’ve been in love with you since you were replacing Jihoon for Ms. Kwon’s classes.”

“But… Just now you…”

Ten rolls his eyes as if Kun’s dumbassery can no longer be tolerated. “Look, I was just afraid you were rambling due to lack of sleep, okay?” He lowers his eyes, kicking nothing on the ground. “I was hoping you’d say it again in the morning. So I’d know you meant it.”

“I did,” Kun insists, making sure it sounds strong enough that Ten won’t dare to doubt. “I meant it, I told you.”

“I know.” Ten cups Kun’s cheek, brushing a thumb right under his eye. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Fuck. Am I really that dumb?”

Grinning, Ten says, “Yeah, honey. You’re the real deal.”

Somehow, Kun feels like that phrase holds a second, more intimate meaning.

“So. Just making sure here. You’re my boyfriend, right?”

Ten groans, throwing his hands in the air and heading towards the bedroom while muttering about hot, clueless boyfriends and their useless questioning. Kun has no choice but to follow him.

\-- x --

(“Did you make a song for my birthday?”

“WHAT? HOW DID YOU KNOW?”

“You titled it ‘Ten’s Birthday Track’, dumbass, I saw it when I used your computer to reply to some emails earlier.”

“Fuck.”

“I didn’t listen to it, though. It took me a lot of self-restraint not to. You better make it count.”

“I promise you won’t regret it.”)

**Author's Note:**

> @[twitter](http://www.twitter.com/maplemooncake)


End file.
